The Alcove
by Four Feels and an Idea
Summary: They say curiosity killed the cat... this time it has resulted in Private having to flee from his own unit amidst rumours of him being a traitor. Now he has to convince them it was a misunderstanding - while surviving the world outside the zoo walls without the help of his friends. May change rating to T for future violent incidents.
1. Chapter 1

Private ran the tip of his flipper down the wide-ish crack in the left corner wall, confused.

Where had it come from? It didn't seem to be a normal crack, a break in the wall due to a change in temperature or pressure; it was nearly straight, apart from the occasional wobble, and went vertically up from the floor to a few centimetres above his head, at which point it ended sharply. The gap between the line and the wall perpendicular to it on the right was just wider than him, and, if he looked really closely, at the top of the crack there was another one – very, very slight, and very straight – running horizontally from the top to the wall on the right.

It looked like the outline of a door... a _secret_ door which he had never known was there. Private whimpered excitedly and hopped up and down. Then he stopped.

This crack, if it was the outline of a door in disguise, would have been noticeable to him before. But this was the first time he had seen it. Surely he would have found it before if it was, actually, a door? It would have been there ages. His excitement dissipated. It was likely just a crack in the wall, a coincidental mark left by Kowalski's new laser gun he was testing yesterday. Yes. That would be what had happened.

Besides, if it _was_ a door, he was only a first-class Private. He would have no clearance to even know the door was there, let alone explore whatever was on the inside. That was the point of a secret. He'd never know either way. Private sighed, disappointed, and was about to turn away from the crack when he noticed something.

At the bottom of the line, at the floor, there was a tiny silver screw with its little tip stuck in the crack. He vaguely remembered Kowalski fussing yesterday about how he didn't have enough screws, despite having counted them all out earlier. Private guessed it had been accidentally flicked away in the flurry of construction and had become lodged in the crack.

He bent down to pick it up. He wrapped the tip of his flipper around it and pulled, but to his surprise, it was firmly stuck; he had to pull hard to free it, and when he did, the crack promptly shut itself with a barely audible snap. He blinked. The line was now so thin he could barely see it – just like the one joining it to the corner.

* * *

><p>Private functioned like a zombie the rest of the day. He stared off into space, eyes vacant, barely concentrating on his training. He seemed indifferent to comment and replied in noncommittal grunts.<p>

During the usual midday six laps around the penguin pool, he did seven and a half before Rico pulled him out of the pool for lunch. Lunch consisted of sushi and little tins of sardines, which would usually have been devoured in seconds, but Private just nibbled, his mind on other things. He wasn't even paying attention when the others started a contest to see how much food they could fit in their mouths (Kowalski won, 3 points above Skipper; Rico was disqualified for swallowing them). Afterwards, Private lost spectacularly to them in a card game of go fish and didn't even sigh. He just didn't seem to be focused.

Kowalski suggested they ask Private what was wrong. Skipper quickly intervened and vetoed the idea, mistakenly guessing that Private was growing up, and he said that so long as he didn't become insubordinate, it didn't matter. He also stated that he was glad the 'lunacorn phase' was coming to a close, since Private had shown no interest in the new episode on television that day. His doll lay discarded, as Rico's had months before. "These things end," he'd said. "He's becoming a man."

In actual fact, Private's thoughts were still childish and naïve; he was now sure that the crack was a secret door, and despite the probable confidentiality of the interior, his mind was alive and bursting with curiosity.

He could only imagine what was inside.

What if it contained super secret gadgets and gizmos even Kowalski couldn't imagine, or weaponry so powerful it was hidden away so nobody, not even them, could get their hands on it? What if, hidden inside, there was information so fascinating and confidential even Skipper wasn't allowed to read it? What if it was a prison, where Skipper stored his enemies that he didn't want the rest of them to find out about, or a second torture dungeon, a more vicious and horror-movie one, where he extracted information – and possibly teeth – to learn what he needed to know?

What if the other two were in on it, and he was the only one in the unit with no idea?

All of these questions swirled in his brain all day, even continuing their assault after lights-out, while he could hear Rico's snores and Skipper's sleep-mutterings. Try as he might, Private couldn't get them out of his mind, like that old lunacorn song that went la-la-la, na-na-na, la-la-la-_la_-la-la- dammit, now that was stuck in his head for another week. He scowled.

Suddenly he heard movement above him. Kowalski was shifting around in his bunk.

Private saw a flash of black and white drop down past his bunk, then heard the padding of his colleague walking towards the corner, notebook under his arm. Private turned his head slightly and watched him out of the corner of his eye.

Kowalski placed his left flipper on the wall and spoke, quietly but clearly: "open." Private gasped as the door slid open. He watched the scientist enter the dark new room in HQ, too excited to bother to pretend to be asleep any more. He sat up in his bunk and hit his head on its ceiling with a whimper of pain that nobody heard.

From inside the alcove he heard the rustling of paper and the snap of drawers for several minutes, and Kowalski emerged without his notebook, but reading a scrap of old and yellowing paper instead. Shaking himself free of lingering dust, he muttered to himself about equations and principles of science, then tutted and wandered into his lab without looking up to see if anybody else was awake. The door in the corner closed with a quiet thunk.

* * *

><p>The next day, when Skipper declared they were to be treated to snow cones for a new record time taken to clean HQ (or most of it, Private thought), Private declined under the pretence that he just wanted some time to himself. He really wanted to stay to figure out how the secret door worked – curiosity piqued, he was too tempted by its forbidden fruit to forget about it. He waved them goodbye as they went, and waited until they were out of sight to dash down to the corner and place his left flipper on the hidden door.<p>

"Open," he said tentatively, expecting a barrage of moths and the stench of age-old filth.

Nothing happened.

He frowned, then hit upon an idea. He placed his flipper higher on the door to imitate Kowalski's height and repeated the word in a more commanding voice. It worked.

The door ground open, revealing a dark, circular alcove filled with wooden boxes and crates, desks and shelves, stacks of papers and folders. Paper was strewn about everywhere in no order and odd pencils littered the desks and the floor. Dog-tags of the dead and retired hung from hooks on the left. It was dusty, but there were no signs of insect or rodent life. Private breathed a sigh of relief and looked around. Despite the initial unimpressed disappointment he felt, the childish excitement one feels when one is confronted by 100 peanut butter winkies rose within him as he dashed about, trying to see everything at once.

His eyes rested on one particular box, very small, with crude handwriting on its lid. He dashed back to the main room and grabbed Kowalski's speak-and-spell. He translated the writing to be 'Skipper, Denmark'. Private giggled to himself as he reached out for it. He chopped the padlock and lifted the lid. He snapped it shut almost immediately after he took the contents in, heat rising in his cheeks. He should _not_ be seeing this. It was a high-clearance-only collection of dusty photographs, the subscripts in Danish, but the context in the photos quite clear. He dreaded to think what Skipper would do to him if he ever found out that he now had a very clear idea about what had happened in Denmark. Punishments for getting up late were harsh enough – accessing top secret files about a penguin commando? Who knew. He shivered. He would never look at a sandwich the same way again.

He then noticed the box looked a lot deeper on the outside, meaning one of two things: it had a thick base, or it had a secret compartment. Private looked behind him. They wouldn't be back for another 10 minutes or so, he knew, but he was still anxious. He swallowed. He took out the photos and lifted up the fake bottom of the box. What was underneath was even worse than the photos. Private quickly returned the incriminating box to its original state and put it back on the desk. His mind now swam with even more questions, confused and surprised ones, and he felt bad. Really bad. Like an insubordinate. "I shouldn't be in here," he whispered to his now terrified self. He guiltily moved away from the box, eyeing the word 'Skipper' as if he expected to hear his voice reproaching him any second.

Private glanced around himself at the walls, looking for any sign of surveillance equipment, and he saw a diagram pinned to the wall. It looked like Kowalski's old blueprints redrawn, the older version of which hung in an art museum with a unicorn scribbled on it by Rico. This plan had the plus symbol still in place, and looked like it could work if built. Beside it was an overly colourful adaptation far more complicated than the first. Fascinated, Private forgot his fear of discovery and looked at the other pieces of paper.

Some looked like complex mathematical formulae, others like descriptions of bizarre top-secret military weaponry, and others still like annotated sketches of weird fireworks or something like that, with trails of what looked like fiery goo left behind them. Napalm maybe, he thought. Science and violence seemed to be the general theme of the room. As well as incriminatory photography, though he shook that thought away.

He tried to look in a large cabinet leaning against the wall. The hinges were rusted shut and the lid wouldn't budge, so he turned his attention to the drawers in the desks. They were all locked. Oh well, he thought. Some things had to be hidden.

He looked around again. Amazingly abstract and detailed pencil drawings of places of rehabilitation, including their hostile inhabitants, stood in a pile on the floor, complete with the signature of an obviously deranged artist on each of them. Private wanted to keep one or two, but didn't want theft added to his internal ever-growing list of wrongdoings, so he regretfully left them there.

Excited and fearless as he now was, he didn't dare touch any more small boxes until he found one already opened in at the back of the room. It held letters from and to Kowalski, and each one was sealed with the stamp of a higher command than Skipper's. Private wondered what they were. Rifling through the box, he finally unearthed one that was unsealed. To his disappointment, it was coded, and there was no translation sheet in the box. This is why you're supposed to show your working out, Private thought, irritated.

Just then, he spotted a letter addressed to Skipper beside the box. It was uncoded and even without picking it up he could translate its shocking message. It described exactly why the penguins were here, why they were stationed in Central Park Zoo...

Private swallowed. He dropped the speak-and-spell. All of this little adventure ceased to be fun and games any more. He had been told to obey orders and even if he questioned them sometimes, or even disobeyed one or two, he had been loyal to Skipper, believing that it was for the good of the animals of Central Park Zoo. But now he knew differently... astonished and appalled, he backed out of the room, gaze still locked onto the letter, hardly daring to believe what he had seen. The door closed.

He continued to back away until he bumped into something behind him. Something solid, but a little soft. He swallowed again. His insides seemed to have deserted him, as had his pluck. He turned.

"Private," Skipper said quietly, his voice deceptively calm, his ice-blue eyes locked on his. "What were you doing in there?"

"N-nothing, Skippah." Private could swear his leader could hear his heart thumping manically in his chest.

His superior nodded and broke eye-contact. His voice became more steely and commanding. "You've always been a bad liar, soldier. Stay where you are." He left HQ. Private groaned. Shame and guilt bubbled within him and he hid his face in his flippers. He heard voices outside...

"What are we going to do, Skipper?" Kowalski, concerned and in shock.

"What's going on?" Marlene, inquisitive.

Garbling. Rico, explaining.

Silence.

"Men, it's not the first time I've had to schedule an execution..." Skipper. Merciless.

Private summoned the last ounce of courage he had and fled through the door which led to the sewer.


	2. Chapter 2

In his terror and desperation, Private barely registered his filthy, grimy surroundings, or the dirt that now covered his body. He slid down the sewer towards Marlene's habitat, knowing it would be empty; she was talking to Skipper about his execution for unlawfully accessing confidential information. His occasional lenience towards him would not apply to matters like this, Private knew. The knowledge that his own unit now wanted him dead was like ice in his heart. He felt tears in his eyes but he silently blinked them away. From past experience, he knew that crying was no good in every situation. Crying was what newly-hatched penguins did when they needed an adult. Nobody would come to help him now. He was on his own and crying was no good.

When he came across the rat king Private paid him no attention. He just kept travelling.

Eventually he was underneath the otter habitat. He climbed up and paused at the top of the ladder, listening for the sound of voices inside the room. It was silent. He lifted the grate and entered. A quick scan of the room confirmed it was empty of life, so he calmed his mind and quickly collected things he would need to jungle-up for a while, using a combination of common sense and his military training. He made a mental list of what he grabbed.

Popcorn bag pillow... necessary. Sleep deprivation was the worst enemy of the soldier away from his unit, and pillows were the best friend of the penguin attempting to fall asleep.

A handkerchief blanket for winters... also necessary. The weather was getting colder and low temperatures were killers during long periods of time. If exposure didn't kill a soldier, the distraction would when actions needed to be made fast.

A bar of soap and some cleaning utensils... almost necessary. Disease and infections from resting in unclean surroundings were deadly even in zoo-controlled conditions. In the outside world, they often spelled death.

Map of Central Park Zoo... not as necessary. He knew the layout of the zoo and where everything was in it. It would always do to have a map with him, though, for measuring out distances almost exactly and making simple calculations. Many a good soldier had fallen to relying on memory too much when having to plan out a course of action. What happened to Manfredi and Johnson was enough to prove that.

Four small scraps of cloth... very useful. Two to cover his feet to muffle his footsteps and two spares. He was now in enemy territory, after all.

Semi-advanced first-aid kit... vital. The reasons were obvious.

He shoved everything but two of the pieces of cloth into a large brown knapsack which tied shut instead of buckled, after he had removed it. Little bits of metal clanking would serve to alert anybody on the lookout for a runaway to his presence. Stealth would be needed at times, he knew.

He didn't feel very guilty about taking Marlene's things. When he allowed himself to take them it was with the understanding that he would give them back or get her new ones eventually. He tied the cloth pieces around his feet and, laden with a few basic supplies, slid out through the front tunnel entrance – if they had noticed his absence yet, they would come in through the sewer.

He blinked rapidly in the harsh afternoon sunlight. It was cool outside with the wind, but the sun was just as bright as in summer, peeking through thin clouds above him. Visibility was high, he noted with worry. This was bad – anybody would be able to see him from any distance. He only hoped he could stay out of their lines of sight.

He crossed the pool by gently lowering himself into the water and kicking his feet, and holding the supplies above the surface. He made a mental note to obtain waterproof bags from somewhere before he left the zoo. He was sure that the zoo veterinary hospital had some in its storeroom to put equipment in for rainy-day enclosure visits. He hopped up and over the low wall of the habitat and landed with a quiet _pat_. His head swivelled from side to side, on the lookout for any signs of movement. His story would be spreading. If even the flamingoes saw him now, the other penguins would be on him faster than he could say 'hush'.

Unwilling to loiter any more than he had to, Private slung the knapsack over his back and hurried away in the direction of the food shed for some fish.

It was unlocked. The door was wide open and as he watched Alice emerged without shutting the door behind her. She set off for the reptile house, trolley of food in tow. He slid inside and took stock of his surroundings.

Shelves upon shelves of different-coloured food bags and boxes met his eyes. Every type of animal in the zoo seemed to have a mountain of food to itself. Nuts, fruit crates, live food... there were so many different kinds for each type of animal in the zoo. There was a huge refrigerating box in the corner for perishables, and opposite, a steel door in the wall with its little glass window frosted over. That must be the freezer, Private thought happily. He hopped up a pile of food bags and leaped for the door handle. He grabbed it and twisted.

The door swung open and the delicious smell of frozen fish wafted over him. It made him smile. He waddled forwards into the middle of the room, letting in the scents of cod, haddock, sardine, kippers... and was that tuna? He was in bliss.

He shook his head to clear his mind and started breaking open boxes of fish by the dozen. By gulping them down and stuffing them into his bag with feverish haste, he soon cleared a whole bottom shelf of food. That was hunger taken care of for the moment, and his hoard of fish would feed him for two more days, at least. Now for defence, he thought, rubbing his stomach.

In another room off from the main store room he found a small, sharp switch-blade and a Swiss army knife which he took from a sleeping zoo worker's coat pocket. Not very effective against a bear... or a badger... but it was far better than being unarmed. Private gingerly checked both were fully functional, wincing when the switch-blade flicked open and almost sliced off the tip of his beak. He would have to be careful about that in future. He put them in the knapsack's left side pocket.

Next up for a scavenging run was the zoo gift shop – that was where the best makeshift defensive gear could be found, surprisingly. He slid along the path to the shop with speed and he was soon inside, finding the steel grate up and door unlocked. He grabbed what he knew could be useful.

Using his Swiss army knife, he cut about twenty metres of thin string from several toy fishing rods and stuffed it into the right side pocket of his bag. He removed, but kept, the hook ends. They went into a paper bag and joined the string.

Next he put a stuffed penguin doll into another bag, this time crafted out of soft grey cloth – paper rustled too much, and so did canvas. The bag was attached to the one on his back with another piece of string. Now he had a decoy which had, in the past, been proven to work.

Seven little stone slabs shaped like turtles went in his bag as well. They were heavy; they had a possible uses for weapons, traps and weights for modified tools.

After rummaging through the cash register, he emerged with seven one-dollar bills, four fives, a ten, and six twenties. That would fund everything he needed from the city for a while – vending machines, shop raids, everything to do with humans.

Finally he used his knife to slice open a few more toys. He collected their stuffing and shoved it into the back pocket of his bag. This would be used for bedding, emergency decoy repair, and for lining his future base to muffle footsteps even more. Movement would be necessary inside a base of operations, and he wouldn't be able to afford the time taken to creep is hostiles were outside.

Private took one last look around him. He couldn't see anything else he might need from the zoovenir shop, so he left and set off to the zoo's vet clinic, going the long way around. He waddled in the shadows of the brick walls this time, slowly, listening out for any animals nearby. They would no doubt have noticed his escape by now – he had been gone a full half hour. Still, he'd made good headway for the time he had taken.

When he was part way there he heard voices from the lemur habitat. He slowed to a halt.

Julian's was louder than anybody else's. "If we could all just pay the penguins a little attention please... now, now..." Private gulped. His unit were making a formal declaration to inform the zoo's inhabitants. The muttering among the other animals died away.

Skipper's clipped tones addressed the congregation. "Thank you, Ringtail. Now, as you may know, a member of our team has gone AWOL..."

More muttering.

Here it comes, Private thought. He nestled against the wall of the lemur habitat, resting his tense muscles, out of sight but very close.

"He was caught accessing confidential information. At first, we thought he had an agenda no more sinister than childlike curiosity... however, when caught, he defied a direct order and left HQ. We currently do not know where he is. " He waited for absolute silence before speaking again.

"Therefore, we now have suspicions that he's working for an outside group."

Private blinked in surprise. Wait, he thought. What?

Another ten seconds or so passed while the animals of the zoo chattered themselves out. They all seemed to be more interested than shocked at this news.

"Listen! So long as he is out of our hands he is a danger to everyone in this zoo." Skipper's words stunned them quiet. Private's beak hung open stupidly in his confusion.

Skipper continued sadly, "Yes... we've always known there was a risk of this happening. He's an impressionable penguin. We hoped we could mould him into a good soldier with training, but he gives in to temptation too easily. Bribes? Torture? Brainwash? Who knows. Really, it was only a matter of time before a chance came along to turn him traitor..."

More chatter, more rumours created and swapped. This time there was a note of worry to their collective voices.

"We need to find him, and fast. There's no telling what sort of information he will pass on about every single one of us..."

At that comment, Private sank onto his rear. The panic was evident in their talking now. This was worse than knowing a secret. They all thought he was a traitorous runaway... like he was some sort of enemy spy. Private frowned and thought, what was he talking about? An 'outside group'? I haven't been speaking to anybody outside this zoo for a long time... surely he sees I was just scared when I ran...

He heard the animals beginning to leave. They would soon be out of the enclosure and roaming about the zoo.

As quickly as he could, he sped along to the vet and scaled the wall to a window, using a grappling hook he had fixed together earlier from three of his hooks, a stone weight and some string. He climbed into the building, hoisting the string of the grappling hook up with him, and jumped down inside the main ward.

He dashed to the closet and pulled it open. Morphine, animal aspirin, waterproof plastic bags... a little box of everything went into his now overfilled bag. Tying it shut, he was planning out a route in his head while he climbed back up the string to the window. He saw them advancing.

They were predicting his actions.

They were advancing. Their eyes were focused on the window they usually used, the one to the left of his position. Beside and behind them were the strongest animals in the zoo – the gorillas, the polar bears, and the kangaroo. They were a fierce group. He would have to pass them to leave the zoo grounds.

Suddenly his heart was beating a violent tattoo against his ribcage. His legs felt weak. Fear like he had never known before – a sick fear, tinted with panic, betrayal and confusion, and spurred on by fight-or-flight instinct – clogged his mind as he dropped down, hook under flipper, and slid towards the zoo entrance. He forgot his planned route and beelined. As he whizzed by he heard the gorillas yell and Rico garble his alarm. Private ignored them and slid out of Central Park Zoo and into the park itself, his unit close behind.

* * *

><p>He had lost them. His hook had made it possible for him to climb up into the dense branches of a tree once he was out of sight and now he laid, shivering in fear, on a thick branch watching them slide around below. They hadn't thought to look among the orange and brown leaves above for their target. A kite rustled behind him somewhere in the tree, and he prayed it didn't attract their attention.<p>

"Where can he be?" Kowalski griped to Rico. Rico shrugged and gave him a blank look. Neither of them seem angry, Private thought to himself; they merely looked as if they were on a picnic and they had misplaced the bread. The knot of fear in his gut lessened. Maybe they didn't believe that he was a traitor, but were just following instructions. Perhaps even thought him innocent of anything but said 'childlike curiosity'?

It gave him an idea – if he could communicate with Kowalski – Rico was too unpredictable, and too loyal to Skipper – and prove to him he wasn't a spy... he could, in theory, convince him to help? He could clear his name more easily with the assistance of lieutenant Kowalski. Private smiled as a plan formed in his head. Then the list of items he needed to scavenge got larger and larger.

* * *

><p>He crept silently among the bushes on the edges of the scouting camp the others had set up just outside the zoo. He kept far back in the bushes, so that he was barely able to see them in the dim light of the setting sun – if he couldn't see them very well when they were out in the open, they had next to no chance of spotting him among the shadows and leaves. Slowly he moved to the bush on the left, keeping bent down, tips of flippers touching the ground on occasion to keep himself steady. He was careful not to step on the dry fallen leaves and instead stuck to patches of soft soil.<p>

His preliminary stake-out was going well. He wasn't going to break into the zoo yet; the first night outside the protection of his unit's trust and guidance, the last thing he would do was straight-out break into the current most dangerous place in New York City for him. He was just there to see what he was currently up against.

Skipper had trained him too well. The laser grid, the booby traps, all of Rico's landmines – it just looked too easy after all the agility training exercises he had done in the past. Banks of electronic equipment, glowing faintly along with the low light from the moon, were scattered around in front of the gates, blocking his view of the floor but illuminating some deadly-looking bear traps. They looked easy enough to avoid now he knew they were there. Granted, some paths were blocked entirely. The only features which had him stumped were the deadly sewer traps he'd discovered earlier, and the fatal bare electric wires running along the perimeter walls. This made the main entrance the only weak point in the zoo. And the only place he could gain entry through without some really good gear.

To get a better view of the grid he shifted to the left again, into a bush dripping with sweet-smelling, pastel-coloured flowers, the only flowers out now the season had turned. The pollen marked his already sewer-stained and unkempt plumage and he tried hard not to sneeze. Some sort of biodegradable rubbish had turned to mush half a foot away and he skirted around it, only for his foot to sink into a patch of mud. One good thing about being so filthy, he reflected, was his white front and orange feet were much less visible in the dark.

A voice made him jump. "How's it going, guys?" Marlene was back for the second time during the stakeout. "I got you those fish from your habitat."

Rico darted forward excitedly and Kowalski hummed appreciatively. Private heard Skipper thank her. They all kept their voices low.

"So, seen Private anywhere yet?" She didn't sound angry either, much to Private's delight.

It was Kowalski who answered the inquiry. Counting out fish, he said, "Presently, there has been no sign of him. We know he would never do anything as rash as a break-in on the first night," he said portentously, "but we always have to be prepared. If he _has_ gone out of his mind, well..." Private blinked and tried to remember if he had heard a rumour of him being crazy while the animals were talking earlier. Anything and everything was being swapped in there, he realised. Kowalski continued quietly, after another fish, "We'll find him eventually and get the truth out of him – meanwhile, we can only speculate why he was translating the information. He can't resist capture forever."

"It's a big city," Marlene disagreed. "He could get tools from anywhere. Why would he come here?"

Skipper shook his head. "Marlene, we have everything he needs to survive out there. My training technique means we rely on certain types of equipment for survival; this equipment is only accessible by us. He doesn't know how to survive out there for long without full cooperation with our unit. Until he's ready to accept the consequences of his actions, he's stuck out there with no help. He won't last a week." Skipper raised the binoculars to his eyes and continued his optical scan of the park. He didn't seem to look at anything closer than ten metres, and completely ignored the bushes about four feet from him.

Behind him, Kowalski yawned. "Should I check the perimeter again, Skipper?" He rubbed his eye.

He shook his head again. "Get some rest. Rico can do it." The large, scarred penguin in question gave Skipper a helpless look. "Go on," Skipper urged. "And don't forget to check the ground for corpses."

From where he was stood, he could see Marlene's shiver as Rico slid away into the grounds. She stepped closer to Skipper absent-mindedly, but backed away again at a sharp glance from him. She looked frightened at the thought of Private's charred and lifeless body slumped outside the zoo walls. As she should be, Private thought, shuddering. Marlene rubbed her arms in response to a cold gust of wind. He could see her tiny fangs digging into her lower lip. "What if he's innocent?" She blurted out suddenly. The other two looked at her in surprise. "Y'know, what if he's not a spy? If he was just... curious?" She seemed to be struggling to find the right words, but from the look on her face, she had wanted to say it for a while. "I don't think he's a traitor... I mean, he has a good sense of right and wrong, and he's just a kid, y'know?"

Skipper studied her for a long moment, flippers on his hips. Then he sighed and grabbed a cup of coffee, complete with a fish, from the table next to him and took a long drink. Then he turned to her and said, "Marlene, I've given it a lot of thought. This isn't just a case of 'I wonder what this is over here' or 'ooh, look what I found'. He deliberately gained access to a high-clearance-only hidden room in HQ, with the full knowledge that he had no right to."

Every point he made, Private winced in guilt. "When caught, he defied a direct order and left HQ without permission. He robbed the zoovenir shop, the zoo supply store and even your habitat. Taking enough food and gear to survive outside for several days, he has also so far resisted arrest." He put his mug down. His expression was one of regret. "This isn't how we taught him. From what I've seen, even if he's 'innocent', his behaviour has made him unfit to be a soldier in my unit."

At this, Private hung his head in shame. His fear and unwillingness to face up to what he had done had made him an unfit penguin for duty. He could hear Marlene arguing with Skipper, saying that Private had proven himself over and over again, but he didn't listen. Why did he _have_ to see what was through the door? Why couldn't he just control himself whenever he saw something interesting? Devastated and completely hating himself, he wondered if he should just give himself up instead. Maybe, if all went well and they all listened to him, he would just get away with expulsion from the army and a few years in prison. It would be better than shamelessly defying his commanding officer again and again, alone and in disgrace. Like Kowalski had said, they would catch up with him eventually, anyway.

Seething with frustration, Marlene turned to Kowalski, who was trying to keep track of the conversation while trying not to fall asleep. "You don't believe he's capable of anything like that, do you?" Private lifted his head.

He took a while to answer. He shifted from foot to foot, staring around them. Private shrunk back when he began examining the flowers on the bush he was hiding in.

"I don't think that Private would willingly betray us," he said slowly. "Likely he was just scared when he fled HQ. But we can't rule out brainwash, or drugs, or any other form of forceful mind control. Although I don't believe he wasn't acting of his own accord, it's perfectly possible that Private was carrying out another person's sordid orders. We have to find him, either way. He's an imminent threat." Kowalski looked away, scraping his feet against the paved floor. Despite his words, nothing in his voice suggested he thought Private was a spy – his heart soared and a smile lit his features again. The thoughts about turning himself in disappeared and the plans of clearing his name came back. There was still hope yet. He returned to taking mental notes about his surroundings, then realised something.

They weren't expecting him to break into the zoo yet – their defences were probably minimal and they were on low alert, wandering around and chatting. Tomorrow they would be far more likely to spot him if he approached. Maybe breaking in tonight wasn't reckless at all?


	3. Chapter 3

He knew, without even going down there again, he would have more than a hard time trying to get in through the sewer, and he'd also need far more preparation if he was going to scale the walls. Raising himself up an inch or so to get a better look at the floor, he began plotting a path through to the gates. They didn't often look over to his left, but there was no cover there... to the right there was a lot of stuff to conceal himself behind, but that was where facing, and where they were paying the most attention to... what if he just rushed through and then hid? No, that wouldn't work... it had once, but attempting it twice in one day would be tempting fate. He'd have to sneak in.

But getting into the zoo without them noticing looked almost impossible. Although, he thought... if I was to creep behind those computer banks from the bushes on the other side, and somehow draw their attention away from the gates...

Private dropped lower again and thought about it.

There didn't seem to be an easier way in. He decided to give it a shot, and if they spotted him, they would most likely be so surprised it would be easy to just flee once more and come back the night after, or maybe the one after that, when he had found gear to get over the electrified walls with. Tonight's was a low-risk attempt, he noted.

A large, clear gap separated the bushes where he needed to be and the bushes he was hiding in. They'd spot him immediately if he tried to sneak across, and Skipper was constantly scanning the park, so he wouldn't be able to sneak past at a distance. His only choice seemed to be to go around the whole zoo – and while he was doing that, he could check again for any weak points in the wires again.

He set off to the left. Silently he moved out of the bushes when they weren't looking, and hurried away around the corner. He moved quickly but quietly around the outside walls of the zoo, examining the bare, electrified wires intently as he passed, and keeping an eye out for Rico. The hum of the electric pulses through the wires were quiet enough for him to be able to hear everything around him clearly, but still loud enough to be irritating and to set him on edge. Some primitive instinct, deep inside of him, didn't like the low-pitch noise. Growling and thunderous, bearing down on him as he walked past, it seemed to threaten his well-being. The feathers rose on the back of his neck.

It didn't take long for him to lap the zoo. And although the tangled, dangling and frankly lethal wires were well-maintained and fully functional, Private thought there were several key points where he could probably get through with some gear. At least without serious injury or death. Satisfied, he bent low and began to creep around the corner towards the main gates, making sure he wasn't exposed. He entered another bush and worked out a path from there. It looked fairly easy. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

A rock, no bigger than a sardine can, lay on the ground next to him. They weren't looking. He picked it up, raised himself high, and threw it as far as he could towards the left of the entrance, over where he had hidden earlier. He ducked down again. It struck a tree with a loud 'clunk'. The three animals spun around, and Skipper motioned instructions to Kowalski. Gesturing for Marlene to stay back, he rushed away towards the source of the sound, grabbing a military-grade weapon from the table as he passed it. Private shivered. His captain looked fully capable of murder then and there.

Taking his chance, Private stepped behind the nearest console, thankful he had thought to grab those scraps of cloth to quiet his footsteps earlier. As he had planned, his flipper dashed out and flicked off the lever he knew was controlling the power to the laser grids, and as he advanced he sidestepped each metal bear trap and hopped out of range of each body-heat detector with ease.

In just five or six seconds he had gone past them and squeezed through the gap left in the massive gate, and was inside the zoo, _and_ they hadn't even noticed yet. Private made sure he was well out of sight and hearing range before resting.

His pulse gradually slowed to a sensible pace. The adrenaline in his blood faded away and his muscles began to relax. He controlled his breathing. That was over. Now he just had to stay unseen and get what he needed. Escaping would be far simpler and easier to do than getting in, so he needn't worry about that yet.

The light from the crescent moon was faint and the sparse lights dotted around the zoo grounds barely illuminated anything. A very slight fog had drifted in, shortening his field of view; from where he stood near the entrance, he could barely made out the brick walls of the penguin habitat through the gloom.

Trying as hard as he could not to be scared, he dashed and flipped and back-flipped from wall to lamppost to wall until he was just outside his old home. He leapt over the pool and kicked the food bowl to the side. He dropped down.

He was in. After the open air, the walls of HQ felt dangerous, oppressive, as the old comforts of home seemed long gone even though it had only been a few hours since he had left. There were no traps – none that he could see, anyway. Quickly he entered Kowalski's lab, and started opening all of the cupboards and boxes randomly until he located the bag of gear. He picked it up, ecstatic. A very faint but fresh smell seemed to be emanating from the bag.

He recognised the scent – after only a few seconds he had remembered it. Rico's scent. There was a bomb in the bag.

He opened it. It sat in the middle of the jumble of emergency field equipment, like an egg in a nest. An egg made of C4. Private tapped a button on its side. The display lit up – unset. He released a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. They hadn't expected him to come tonight after all. He knew that if he had waited until tomorrow to come, the smell would have faded and he would never have known about the bomb, which would be set to explode. Smart. But not smart enough to realise that Private was too.

Walking back to the main room in HQ felt strange, and not for the first time doubt about his actions flooded his mind. This was his home, or at least it had been for a long time. He belonged here. Surely he couldn't leave this place forever. And it felt so wrong to become a burglar in his old home.

He shook the thoughts away and located the control panel on the wall. A few flicks of tiny switches, a couple of buttons pressed, and just like that the defences were off.

They would have noticed. That was definite. So he fled to the sewers once more, not pausing and this time with a destination in mind.

Private slid along the sewer's pavement until he was underneath Burt the elephant's habitat. He scaled the ladder and rested for only a second, listening, then swiftly lifted the small grate and wriggled out.

Burt was snoring loudly in one corner of his habitat. Private leaped up and landed on the elephant's side, then followed the move up with a flip over onto the outer walls of the zoo. The dead wires dug into his feet through the rags he wore. There was no threatening hum.

A glance around. He was unseen. He entered the park and and within seconds had scaled a large tree.

His heartbeat slowed and the adrenaline faded. He relaxed in the crook of where two branches split with a smile of contentedness.

* * *

><p>Private awoke the next morning to the sounds of an oblivious family of pigeons whispering on a nearby branch. He sat up slowly and quietly, listening to their gossip from his place within the leaves.<p>

"I heard the badgers telling the elephant that they gonna kill the bird when they find him," one of them was saying. He sounded young. Private moved his head ever so slightly so that he could see them through the leaves.

"_If_ they find him," one of his companions corrected him. She leaned closer. "I heard their King telling them that the Sky Spirits told him that the penguin is like a ghost..."

The third pigeon snorted. "Their King also says that if he sits on popcorn kernels then popcorn falls from the sky."

"It's true, though," said the first pigeon. "I saw it happen. There was an explosion and then popcorn was falling like rain. And he's right about the penguin too – I heard from the otter that nobody's seen hide nor hair, or feather, of him since he left the zoo. But he's been around here a lot... he was here just last night."

The third pigeon snorted again. "Baloney," he said, but he didn't sound so sure this time.

The female pigeon hummed thoughtfully. "I don't think so. Apparently he stole a bunch of stuff, and took a bomb. And they're not sure how he got in... before he came in they had him surrounded just outside the entrance..."

"And then he disappeared," the first one finished, sounding impressed. "He stole the stuff, turned off the electricity, and was gone. Like magic."

Private didn't know whether to feel ashamed or proud, or guilty. He went with proud and his chest feathers puffed up importantly and he seemed to grow slightly in size. He smiled as he surveyed them.

Finally the third spoke again. "But he'll be out of here soon enough... he's got what he needs, right?" His voice was falsely confident. "He'll leave and then we'll never see him again."

"They never saw him in the first place after he left," the young one piped up. "He's too good... he looks weaker than the rest but..." His voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. "But... maybe that was all an act. Maybe he's been just using them all that time, and he got their trust and friendship so that he got training." Private blinked again.

"Makes sense," the third said slowly. He seemed to have lost his scepticism. "Where better to go for training than to the commando penguins? And once he was part of their team they'd teach him everything because they'd need him to be skilled. Y'know, for _missions_ and all that stuff."

The female nodded. "Mm-hmm. I always knew there was something fishy about him – the foreign accent and cutesy act and all. He would have to leave the city now, anyway. They're looking for him."

They nodded at each other. Then they resumed normal chatter – the weather, a new squirrel in the park, an impending wedding... etcetera. Private curled up again as silently as he could.

He felt like weeping – it was nice to have people say he was fast and skilled, but it was rotten when they said he was faking the friendship, trust and loyalty he had given his unit for a long time. To have people saw you were a traitor... it was horrible. And he had no idea how to fix it. Tears formed in his eyes but he blinked them away. Crying was no good. The feathers on his torso lay so very flat, and he had curled up so very tight, so that now he looked very small and weak indeed.


End file.
